


The doctor and his favorite toy

by Rehkind



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Sad, dont expect any good feels, he is a monster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehkind/pseuds/Rehkind
Summary: Toby was free from slenderman's grip, only to fall into the arms of another monster. But this time, it didn't seem to bad...





	The doctor and his favorite toy

**Author's Note:**

> this is no nice fluffy shipping. But i really wanted to write this since no one else seemed to take this approach to their relationship

There were only a few people Toby Rogers was truly afraid of: his old master and the doctor who kept him as his favorite toy. 

On one hand, there was the tall monster from the woods. The boy had spend years as its proxy and even longer with it in his head. He didn’t know that it was following him for a long time, didn’t know that it was part of the car accident that stole his most precious sister. But after the fateful day when he left everything behind, the thing was waiting for him in the woods. Building an illusion of comfort. But there was nothing hidden in the monster that would ever help him. Still, working for it was never something bad to him. He had no issue with hurting others and he couldn’t feel pain as well yet there was something far worse. The way it found its way into his head, it fucked Toby up. Always knowing what he was up to, threatening to destroy his few good memories if he didn’t obey or taking over his body completely. After that, he woke up, memories missing from more than just his time as a possessed puppet. He started to carry out each order quickly and flawless. The fear of losing his mind to it was too strong. 

But all that was over. A year and a half ago, the Doctor had picked him up and taught him how to keep the monster out of his head. It didn’t matter to him that the doctor suggested cannibalism, or ordered him to stay with him due to his medical condition. Everything All that was worth to get out of that things reach. And, oh god, he had been so thankful, so absurdly relieved. He still was thankful most times but on some days, the knowledge of owing his life to the doctor, left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

The Doctor was a great being. Some would call him a monster like that thing in the woods, after all they both came from a similar place. Toby would never even dare to even them into the same kind, though. The Doctor didn’t take over people, he asked for collaboration. He accepted the boy as his own being, something he didn’t have to do. He was kind, offered knowledge and protection and his medical test were short, he even allowed Toby to call him by his actual name: Jack - but only on his good days. The bad days scared the boy. The doctor never did anything to harm his body, after all, the boy who couldn’t feel pain was the best test subject one could ask for. But his words and actions were hurtful enough. His wims were unpredictable. On some days, the Doctor just wanted him to disappear, on others, he forced him to walk on all four and ordered him to do tasks without his hands. The doctor thought that Tobys shame and suffering provided the ultimate entertainment. It was humiliating but it still wasn’t the worst experience Toby had with him. 

On these particularly bad days, the doctor was suspiciously quiet and ignored him. Toby always knew that he should just disappear, stay out of the things that bothered the other man, but he never could. ‘Are you alright?’ A simple sentence like this was enough make the superior being snap. Toby never fought back when the older one’s hands wrapped around his throat. He quietly accepted the rage coming his way. He couldn’t feel the choking anyway. On one hand, the doctor was raging but on the other hand he was still calm enough to loosen his grip every few moments, ensuring that Toby’s body could receive the minimum of oxygen he needed to stay awake. Only when the doctor started to talk, it began to be painful. At first, he only cursed the ones that actually harmed him or tried to, the ones that were at fault for his rage. He said all the terrible things he wanted to say to them and imagined them all to be under his hands. But when that phase stopped and his rage didn’t fade away, he turned to the one that was actually there with him. Wherever they were when this rage started, he picked Toby up and carried him to the next best bed or couch. The boy never tried to flee, he was simply trying to breathe again. The doctor positioned him on the soft fabric carefully, nearly lovingly soft. Sometimes he tied him up, other times, he was satisfied with him as he was. The first time this happened, Toby was too out of breath and confused to struggle and the times after that, he knew far too well that it was no use. Once the doctor was satisfied with his work, he sat down next to him, just staring at him again. He deliberately waited for Toby to move, to whine, to do one wrong thing. And he always did, sooner or later.

Hands were quickly wrapped around his neck again and the doctor would get so much closer to him, until his face was only a few centimeters away from Toby. Now the words he chose weren't directed at anyone but his toy. He never used exactly the same words. Sometimes, he was a little more playful, calling him ‘a bad useless boy’ while switching between choking, scratching and slapping him. But most times, his words were more serious. ‘How could I ever consider such a disappointment as my favorite test subject? You don't deserve to be by my side. You should be torn apart to be eaten, I guess. Make yourself useful for once and just die already. You would do everyone a favor.’ His hands would linger on his throat a little longer and his nails would tear into Toby's flesh. And sometimes, when it was a very, very bad day, the doctor marked him with a bite as his property. The physical harm was just there to calm the doctor down but the fact that he didn't even consider the boy a free, thinking being was one of the most hurtful things he could do to Toby. 

This second part of the punishment took around a half an hour in average. During the painful procedure, the doctor would always sit onto Toby’s hips sooner or later, towering over the boy. Toby never needed a height difference to realize how much stronger and perfect the doctor was compared to him, but it certainly was impressive. Usually, Toby wouldn’t be hurt by some mean words. People had told him far worse things and it hadn’t bothered him one bit. But when the doctor voiced his hatred for him, it felt how he imagined a knife being pushed into his torso again and again. At the end, Toby was most certainly crying while the doctor’s hands loosen around his throat. Then they just stayed there again, staring at each other for a while, until the doctor was in complete control of himself. But he didn't just leave him alone to his sadness and tears, he started to comfort him. Careful, fingers tried to wipe the tears away, controlling each new wound he left, leaving tiny kisses on each spot that should hurt. 

Somehow, this aftercare made everything worse. During all this kindness, Toby’s mind was racing, begging for a definitive answer to his favorite Doctor’s feelings towards him. After a few more hours, Toby usually knew that this had just been the rage that took over the being but at times so close to the pain, he never really knew. The Doctor needed him, right? The next few hours were quiet and awkward. Sometimes, the Doctor reminded him that he could always leave him if he wanted to. But Toby never did. Of course, he questioned himself and his choices to stay. On one hand, he had no one else to go to. His family was gone and there was always the danger of that thing finding him again. But there was something else that kept him there. 

He spend a lot of time thinking about this. Why did it matter to him what the Doctor thought of him? Why did he crave his attention? Was there something wrong with him? He considered everything, from Stockholm Syndrome (which was such a stupid idea- he wasn’t forced to stay with the Doctor and he wasn’t afraid of him destroying his body) to him being poisoned with something that made him cling to the Doctor. Of course, all of that was bullshit and he knew the truth all along. He just wasn’t ready to admit it. He admired the Doctor and he loved Jack. That’s why he did everything for his approval and feared each harsh word fm his mouth. He hadn’t felt something so deep for someone since his sister died. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. He wasn’t sure if he could do normal romantic love. He wasn’t sure if Jack wanted normal love at all. Or if he wanted any at all. He wasn’t sure if it mattered what he felt at all. 

Toby didn’t need to see the blood on the Doctor’s hands to know that this would be a terribly bad day. His superiors face told it all. It wasn’t his own blood, the color of the blood revealed that. How did this happen? They changed their location just four days ago. No one should have found them so early. The doctor had been out for half an hour, just exploring the area. Toby didn’t know how many there were but they would certainly be dinner now. This was bad, really bad. Last time it took these bastards three weeks. Toby didn’t even know who they were or who send them. The Doctor took care of them each time. But at the moment, the man just slumped down on the couch, deadly silent. He should go, he really should disappear right now. But he didn’t. Instead, Toby got closer, searching for any sign of a wound on his doctor. He had to sit down next to him, eyeing the Doctor closely. There was a small cut, right under his left cheekbone. Toby quietly got up and searched for the first aid kit. He quietly wondered why the doctor didn’t snap by now. He disinfected the wound and put a small bandaid on it, though it didn’t make the Doctor any less intimidating. 

The moment Toby had put the kit on the tiny couch table, the Doctor immediately grabbed him by the wrist. He traced the boy’s fingers, slowly exploring his scarred skin. It never truly healed even though he had stopped biting his hands when the doctor demanded it. “Do you know who most of these people are that come after us, Toby?” he asked, far too calm. When the boy stayed quiet, his grip tightened. “Do you know, Toby?” The Doctor’s voice got harsher. “No,” he whispered but the doctor didn’t let go. “It’s the damn sporns of your old master. That fucking thing still doesn’t accept that you’re mine.” With the last word, he pulled him closer to himself before he repeated: “Mine alone.” There was something unbelievable aggressive about these words. Toby kind of liked that. But he also worried that this was just the start. The Doctor had a good reason to be angry with him, even worse, he always had had a good reason to be angry with him. As expected, his fingers were on Toby’s throat again. But it wasn’t accompanied with his usual rage or the painful words. Instead both of them kept calm while the Doctor played with the pressure. 

“One could say that it’s all your fault. Trusting that stupid thing, letting it attach to you, crawling into my heart… seeing it like this, you’re truly the one at fault for all of this.” Toby didn’t know what to make of these words. It started to menacing but ended loving it a bit. But still, he feared the pain. He didn’t want it. He never wanted it. But it didn’t stop him before. “On the other hand, it’s also my fault. I was the one taking you from him, teaching you how to resist him and letting you getting oh so close to me.” He stopped touching Toby and turned back to his initial spot, not even looking at the boy. It was confusing, everything he did. After another moment of silence, the Doctor spoke again, with a concerned voice. “You didn't deserve the way I treated you. You never did. But I can't help it sometimes. And I will act like this again in the future and there’s nothing one of us can change about that.” He was deadly serious. Toby was very worried. They never had a talk like this and he couldn't shake the feeling off that Jack would still search for a way to hurt him later on. “You can go whenever you want to, do you understand? You don't owe me anything anymore, I’ve torn you apart far more often than it’s justifiable. You can leave me any time … but you will stay mine,” the Doctor chuckled. “That must sound weird to anyone human while it’s so easy to understand for one of my kind.” Did...the Doctor mark him?


End file.
